


Hades Haze

by teacupofhoney



Series: Kinktober Misc [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Desperate Behavior, Drug Use, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, inappropriate use of brotherly nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-09-24 17:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupofhoney/pseuds/teacupofhoney
Summary: Dean doesn't go to hell, they need to relax for once. They buy a few g's and kick back with some shitty gore and heavy petting.





	Hades Haze

**Author's Note:**

> day five of kinktober 2018, shotgunning

When the deal was broken, the deal that had its grip and claim over Dean Winchester’s soul, it was like a sigh of relief fell over the two. They didn’t know how, or why, or who*, but it didn’t matter. Dean was alive, Sam was alive, and for the first time in a long time, they had a few days of downtime.

Which called for a proper celebration, a day spent in pajamas with several blunts and a strain they’ve never had, specifically chosen by Dean.

So, two blunts down, TV on with low volume, sitting too close on a dingy motel couch, the two were sunk down into the couch, relaxed and barely speaking. Sam’s fingertips teased at the waistband of his own pajama pants, tickling his happy trail and grazing his hand up absentmindedly. He laughed at the TV, but Dean had absolutely no clue what he was laughing at; he was busy watching his brother’s hand, watching the drag and pull of the thin, white material of his tee shirt. 

He pulled his eyes away towards the sound of chainsaws on the TV, a warmth settling low in his belly when Sam laughed, giggling more than anything. That warmth was interrupted by the impact of Sam’s hand hitting him lightly, skin tingling where he touched.

“Dude- Dude, are you even paying attention? You’re the one who chose this shitty gore-fest,” Sam hummed, lolling his head to make eye contact. Dean shrugged and grinned, blinking.

“Just chose somethin’, Sammy. You’re enjoying it, so what’samatter?” Dean’s words were slow and warm, and they were close enough that Sam could feel the warmth of his breath on his face. His breath smelled like lemons and earth and it made Sam shift, humming softly.

“Mhm,” Sam huffed, sitting up and picking up the third blunt, a cherry wrapped little moment, “Where’s the lighter, De?” He asked, looking around. The use of the short and sweet nickname made Dean snort as he handed over a convenience store zippo.

The familiar noise of the lighter igniting, followed by the nearly silent simmering of the flame against paper and bud. Dean held his hand out lazily, waiting for his turn, the damn near violent coughing that followed a moment later took him by surprise.

“Guess you’re done, Sammy,” Dean teased, taking the blizz and taking it between his lips, the sticky cherry flavor and Sam’s spit, lungs soon being filled with citrus bliss. He was slow on the exhale, Sam paying close attention to the plush o of his big brother’s lips, the blunt snatched from between Dean’s fingers soon after.

“Mhm, grabby,” Dean giggled, running a hand down his own face, smacking his lips. He watched Sam try again, watched him go into another coughing fit before he waved his hand, a pit of deep warmth farming in his chest when the idea came to him.

“C’mere, gonna help you,” he offered, taking the blunt back again, “Got an idea, jus’ don’ freak out, Sammy.”

Dean pulled Sam in by the back of his neck, hovering close as he inhaled, keeping a mouthful just for Sam.

Sam didn’t resist; too relaxed to care, mouth opening willingly. Dean leaned in, fingertips pushing into Sam’s hair to pull him closer as their mouths connected. He didn’t even have to tell him what to do, Sam inhaled as Dean exhaled, breathing him in. His eyes fluttered just a little, scooting just that much closer to Dean.

When Dean pulled away, Sam held it for a moment before letting it go, hesitant. The taste of Dean mixed with the earthy undertones, making him shiver just slightly.

Dean wiped spit from Sam’s bottom lip with his thumb, licking his own lips.

“Again.” Sam demanded softly, not needing to say it twice.

Dean sat up more, putting one foot on the ground to kneel closer to Sam. He took a longer hit, his lungs burning, but it was worth it. When he locked lips again, their teeth almost clacked together. Sam breathed in whatever he gave him yet again,

Dean felt a hand on his hip, pulling either Dean closer or himself closer to Dean. Either way, Dean didn’t give even half a shit. Inhibitions lowered, if not diminished entirely, Dean scooted forward and hiked his leg over Sam’s lap, straddling his thighs and somehow not crossing the line of ‘too goddamn close’ to his baby brother’s lap.

Sam looked up at him with glassy, hazy eyes that were all too trusting of a big brother who’d never stray him wrong, a big big brother he almost lost just the night before. A big brother who almost lost him a year before.

“Another?” Sam asked, and Dean could swear it was the most precious, pleading puppy dog eyes Sam could muster right then. The blunt was slowly burning out, filling the room with wispy smoke that dispersed around them. There was enough for two more hits, and Dean fully planned on taking advantage of those two hits. The hand still in Sam’s hair, teasing at the nape of his neck, pulled Sam’s head back gently, taking half of the first hit for himself, swallowing down just enough of it to let it settle in his chest before pressing his lips to Sam’s and feeding the rest to him, taking note of the press of Sam’s fingers in his hips.

When Dean pulled away, he pushed the hair from Sam’s face, scooting closer, almost pressed against him.

“Ready for the last hit, Sammy?” He was almost cooing, thumb trailing his lip again. He got a nod as an answer, and Sam got fed the entirety of the last hit. Dean didn’t need anymore, he was fucking done for, hips rolling just the slightest bit against what he knew for all he was worth was Sam’s hard cock. He pulled back just a little to let Sam breathe, arms draped over his shoulders with the cherry roach in the ashtray, and bruises being dug out into his hips where Sam had hold of him.

“Plan on letting me go, Sa-” Dean was cut off with Sam’s mouth against his, hands snaked around him, waist and neck on lock and key. Dean pushed his hands into his hair again, moving up until he was flush against him as he returned the kiss, teeth clacking together painfully.

“Not right, De,” Sam grunted into his mouth, giving a gasp when Dean’s fingers tugged his hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck.

“Who fucking cares, Sammy?” Dean huffed, one hand pressing in on the sides of Sam’s throat, not a threat or a promise, but just to punctuate his question.

“I don’t care if you don’t, don’t give a single fuck, Sammy. Got so close to losing you, going away forever, don’t ever want that again, Sammy,” Dean rambled on, lips against Sam’s pulse, sucking gently and earning the smallest buck of Sam’s hips.

“Don’t- I don’t want it either, was so scared, De. Want you, want..” Sam muttered, pulling Dean’s hips up close and pushing them away immediately, making Dean grind his hips down against him, pressing up into it. Dean moaned into the curve of his neck, pulling his hair again while he rolled his hips.

“It’s okay, baby brother. Gonna take care of us,” He cooed, whining when Sam pulling him back up into a kiss, more desperate than before.

“Gonna take care of me, big brother?” Sam asked, huffed and too sweet for the implications behind it.

Dean rolled his hips down hard, nodding and ghosting his lips over Sam’s, breathing him in and feeling dizzier than with the weed.

“Gonna take damn good care of you, Sammy.”


End file.
